[b]Prologue[/b] The sky shrieked its final breath. It was a scorching, unstoppable deluge; an unending downpour of flame, hatred, and a righteous fury that obliterated [i]existence.[/i] Harvest burned in her throes. And even though the atmosphere was ripped away, even though her earth was cremated to the core, even though her seas were boiled to their depths, there was no merciless respite. Harvest would scream until her last pebble had been cauterised. Evan turned up the air-conditioner. It was the heat that hurt most. And the light. When he squinted, he could glimpse the purple gods in the skies, just for a moment, before he had to shut his eyes and shield them with a grimace. He shuddered, lathered in a cold sweat. He didn't flock among the hordes outside; fleeing, crying, looting. He had seen the freighters go, and knew there was no more rescue for the rest. Why not go home, and enjoy the memories, before it was too late? Before the whole lot was vapourised. Evan listened to his own advice. He went home, and he sat on his bed, savouring the only holo-still left in the house, and a bottle of wine. He was satisfied. Karen had made it, and that was enough. He hugged himself, shivering despite the heat. [i]I'm going to die.[/i] But Karen wasn't. Dad wasn't. And his child wasn't either. They had agreed to name it Connor if it were a boy. Jackie if it a girl. Connor Bowden. Jackie Bowden. He liked that. The wine curdled in his mouth. It was almost too hot to drink. The ground shook. The house shook. He dropped the bottle, the wine splashing all over the carpet. Not the holo-still, he didn't drop that. He'll never drop the holo-still. Karen laughed at him through the flickering light. [i]She's so beautiful.[/i] A scream outside. He rocked back and forth, trembling. The windows shattered, and the buffeting heat tore at him. The light seared his eyes, and he cried out, his retinas scalded. He moved to the balcony, still clutching the holo-still. His skin blistered, and his clothes were on fire. He trembled uncontrollably. Limbs jerked, fingers twitched. He dropped the holo-still. [i]Karen... [/i]Evan raised his head, and with one last push of will, watched with weeping eyes as the heavens lit up with a second sunrise. [Edited on 05.18.2012 5:02 AM PDT]

It's here! :D Great stuff so far. I'm interested to see the main arc of this pick up, it isn't immediately apparent.

Yeah, everything will be made clear. It's quite a large and ambitious story on my part, and as of right now I was considering revamping the entire story all over. So there's a bit of confusion... The Prelude is just a little tidbit to get you wondering about what happened in the story, and the prologue... well the prologue would string up with some nice bits far later in the novel. I'll be posting Chapter 1 later today.

That was very good. Awaiting chapter one.

I know I said I would post chapter 1 three days ago... And you might not believe me this time, but I should post it (for R3ALZ) tonight. That's a uncertain should, but that depends if I can get on the computer. Believe!

[b]Chapter 1[/b] "And while what you experienced was inconceivable to all, we can only imagine the harrowing horror you had endured, before the final darkness." The human priest closed his eyes in a moment of solemnity. A mourning keel rose from the gathered assembly, whispered anguish that the wind avariciously channeled into the distance. The man spoke to them on a raised hillock. Planted one either side, burning torches; brass strips curled into graceful stems, topped with a copper plate. Their bases dug into the snow. Their light was the only source of proper irradiation for a good while. "Lost in confusion, attacked with unwarranted hostility, may you rest in peace, knowing that your lives have been avenged." The tundra behind him was a scattered plain of dirtied glass and ice; patches of earth struggling between any crevices in the clinkered mirror. Stunted trees clawed their way from the ground, their sinuosity oddly blending with the jagged surrounding. The snow provided an odd illumination, the pale shards the only natural lighting against darkled clouds. "Your home revived, your families alive, and now we begin the journey to recovering," [i]They had twenty years to recover.[/i] The priest had a pitted face. The shadows fought for their personal reliefs on his cheeks. He added grass to the flames, their uneven cadence flaring as it took in more supply. Any redolence the plants produced was, like everything else, siphoned away. Humans were capable of feeling. They knew pain and torment and grief. They knew [i]fear[/i]. Emotions rooted in every living thing were preached to be voided in the case of these creatures, and that they were only fleshy husks containing empty souls, all hell-bent on spreading lies; deceitful and ignorant and [i]blasphemous.[/i] Prayers conveyed by howling monks were all contradictions of each other, a thicket of inconsistencies guided by heedless devotion. What they sermonised could only be the truth; if you would turn away from the light, only the dark remains. When there was a blade was held to your back, the temper of your rejection usually drains away and the wealth of your varying options trickles down into one: theirs. Over time, nihilism became conviction, doubt became belief, and iconoclasm became faith. And when there is faith, everything is possible and every wrong is right. Humanity was the archenemy. It was said so and therefore it would be so. [i]They had to be.[/i] But then there was the schism. There were the startling revelations, and the outrages. The unbelievable truth confronted them in the form of plasma and fire. Their holy crusade was a filthy lie, and their blood-oaths were spat on. Humanity, the one, great enemy, fought for over twenty years, was now to become their ally? Preposterous. There were the meetings. The tentative exchanges, the wobbling partnerships. Delving into their culture with the bizarre idea of [i]exploring[/i], and not sabotage. To sate an unknown curiosity; a [i]hesitant[/i] curiosity. Alaiya Roliem had no curiosity. No curiosity on their homes. No curiosity on their civilisation. And no curiosity on their funerals. The Second Matron of the Roliem Lineage was sent across half the galaxy to oversee how humans chat to their dead. The priest began an elegy, dedicated to the humans killed in the beginning of the war. Lamenting was something to be done in privacy, not bared out to the world. What she had pieced together about humans over the years had been a fragmented jumble, her sources stemming from a drunken husband and another austere partner, quickly followed by a library of recounts boasted by increasingly irritating veterans. Humans were a horde of plotting, unenlightened disbelievers, they branded, until the schism shut their jaws in ironic silence. The funeral site was inside a scalloped crater, a tearing rupture amidst smaller cousins. The main showpiece was thrust into the centre of the plain, a hulking wreck of warped, blackened steel. Mounds of dirt, thrown up by the impact, glassed and then cooled over time, formed a roiling ocean of lacquered earth. This was where one of the cargo freighters had crashed during the skirmishes in the months preceding the war. A mass burial site, with hundreds of bodies scattered over the steppes. [i]'Hel's Harvest',[/i] they called it; an ostensibly bitter twist on the colony's title, a mix of their odd superstitions and colloquial language. The humans were here to mourn, and their killers were with them. The awkwardness of this was sapid, and Alaiya sampled it with an air of impatient exasperation. Sangheili presence was an oddity. Qaetha's obvious wanting for their accompaniment to a human funeral was perplexing, if not insulting to both sides. It was Maccabaeus' pack responsible for this rubbish. A fleck of water splashed onto her cheek. The humans remained unmoving, the priest still chanting. There was a rustle beside her as Huraii shifted, prepared to raise the shade in a moment's notice incase the rain increased. Alaiya glowered. Aristocrat or not, swordsman or not, [i]Helios [/i]or not bah, she did not care; Qaetha will regret this. He had speared his sword into something to dense for him to cut. Again. [i]"It would be respectful to acknowledge their grief we started this war, after all. The least we can perform in their memory is to avow our mistakes," Qaetha had purred. Alaiya's mandibles puckered. "It is only fair, I suppose," she relented. "And you will follow their traditions, not ours," Qaetha appended, his tone sharpened with authority, ramming the blade just a bit deeper into her dignity. Her tongue curled. "And what are their... traditions?"[/i] Black lace was their tradition, draping over her to the point where she couldn't walk, the netlike fabric almost transparent despite the improper colour. And as if to finally bleed her dignity dry, it was completely alien fashion, only lengthened and not modified. The right way was crimson, to represent the suns, and a sash of purple, to indicate blood. That was suited to events like these, not [i]black.[/i] Qaetha Roliemai, she seethed. The rain intensified. There was a heavy swoosh as Huraii wordlessly brought the shade to bear. Alaiya scowled, adjusting her footing. The minuscule glass particles dug uncomfortably through her soles. "Pointless, isn't it?" she commented. Huraii nodded quickly. "Indeed it is, mistress." The wind battered at the shade and her locks flapped against her head. "These humans are so... [i]dramatic[/i]." She peered down at her feet, kicking away one of the larger glass pieces. Huraii quickly swept away more, clearing the ground. Alaiya picked at her rings. The priest's droning was fraying away her patience, cheerfully grinding her temper into dust. The rain gently began patting the flames into extinction, but their extinguishment was ignored. The humans remained bowed and unmoving. The priest gestured at a choir of males. They blew into brass pipes; clear notes blaring from golden barrels. "You will not be forgotten. We will remember you." He finished, and the families seeped away in departure. One of them was almost jogging in their haste. At last. She clucked at Huraii, who lifted the rims of Alaiya's skirts as they began their way out of the crater. They passed the priest as he unearthed the braziers, tossing the ashes onto the grass. He dusted his hands and wrapped the copper plates in a rag, carefully administrating to the sacred metal. The man's face, even in the twilight greyness, showed eagerness to leave. He caught her gaze and carried on hurriedly. "Mistress, we have best quicken. The food will be cold if not served soon and the trip back towards [i]Preeminent[/i] will take some time." Alaiya brushed aside Huraii's report for the moment. The human bent down and left a wreath at the torn rim of the crater. The bracts were a delicate splotch of colour, faded scarlet tapering into pearly bellies. Flowers; passed sangheili would claw themselves back into the living if they sensed the petals. "Why flowers?" The priest paused halfway, lost. Alaiya didn't repeat herself. "They are a tradition." He looked down, hefting the torches. Rain pattered onto the dirty brass. Alaiya turned away, and he followed awkwardly. "Did you have family here?" [Edited on 05.24.2012 12:59 AM PDT]

He swallowed. "Yes." Snow crunched underfoot. "Then are you truly grieving?" "...yes." "Even after twenty years?" His voice stiffened. "This was our first chance to return to our homes. Their spirits were still stranded in the living world, and only our visitation could let them pass on peacefully." "Superstitious rubbish," "It is [i]respectable,[/i]" he snapped. "It is [i]despicable,[/i] that you would show such weakness," Alaiya retorted. "Leave the dead to their graves, and carry on in your lives while you still can. There is no need for such pathetic gatherings on barren worlds." "Do not comment on things you do not understand." Alaiya laughed. "Your tongue is a wild one, human." "We value freedom of speech." "And if you value your tongue, then you will tame your... vocabulary." The priest growled. "You think yourself above the rest of us? You have no power here." "You have a flock to yammer to because of me. I can leave these humans here to starve and freeze. I can burn your little shack and not a single human will care." Alaiya stopped and smiled back at him. Her mandibles split. "I have all the power here." Alaiya enjoyed the humbling. The satisfaction of superiority; an arrogant streak in her, she knew, but it was a rare indulging. This human didn't understand respect, and it was galling. The priest spat at his feet and veered off the dirt path, heading into the heart of the glass field, where his home rotted away on the other side of the tundra. A dead man, wasting away on a dead planet. Alaiya smirked. "The pilot asks if he should begin warming the ship, mistress." "I want us gone from this rock as soon as I enter." She sidestepped a hunk of glass. Huraii tilted the shade to compensate. Ahead, their shuttle's thrusters began to heat. The smooth, bulbous hull gleamed metallic grey, reflected from the skies above, toning the purple neutral. There was a whiff of ozone amid the strong smell of rain and cold wind. "H'chovak's third symphony, mistress?" "Fourth." Huraii relayed the order. The shuttle's wavering outline thrummed in shimmering blue as the thrusters sparked into fiery existence. Heat waves riled from its belly, melting the ice around the ship, turning it into an expanding moat of floating glass. Engine exhaust hit her in the face in a humid combination of smoke, water and grime. Huraii moved in front. The humans had already huddled near the shuttle's gravity beam. "Buruiu is asking for help. He says the rice is still grainy," Huraii reported. "I will kill that boy." They passed over coalescing puddles, and gathering mud pooled as the heat washed over the ground. Huraii was careful not to splash. The engines howled into life. Alaiya stepped underneath the shuttle. Huraii sheathed the shade. The humans ducked their heads. "And tell Lekat if I find him with his arum I will kill him too!" [quote]There we go. First chapter. Not my favourite, I have to say, and I did write it a while ago. Went through a few iterations, but anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! Feel free to ask any questions. [/quote] [Edited on 05.24.2012 12:55 AM PDT]

I've been sick, so I couldn't read it straight away due to dying. Awesome stuff! Unconventional story like your last, so you leave me with no forewarning of what's to come. The ball's in your park now, mate, so smack it! Keep this going.

Thanks Blood! Yeah, I try not to do the basic military stuff in the UNSC, etc ( no offense whatsoever to those stories), and I wanted to do some epic Sangheili novel. I guess it thrusts you into a world where you sorta have to grasp what's going on without me telling you too much - maybe not that overboard, but it's a bit more... well, I'm not sure how to explain it. I try to put it through the main character's perspective, and try to ram that home. I put things in, I name some places (places that I made up), and I don't explain all of those in detail, because, well, the main character already knows those places. I try to make it so your more part of the story, and less of a reader. I think I just rambled exceptionally. Feel free to tell me I don't make sense. I swear, when I think of what I'm saying, I sound like Tolkien himself, but then when I write it down, it turns into some messed up jumble. And damn, I've proof-read that chapter like 4 times after posting, and I didn't see any mistakes or missed out words. I skim over it a day later, and I count at least three glitches.

Chapter 2 will be up tonight hopefully!

Can't wait, man.

Sorry for the delays, I'm still recovering from the epicness of E3. So many new things, so many new story ideas! ARGH, MIND OVERLOAD W$^&#

I love your novels and am awaiting more! I have been quite in active for a while now (at last compared to what I used to be) and have probably missed a lot of great works in this forum.

Wish I could write like this. Keep it up. I'm very interested.

Thanks guys! I think I've just been inspired to get over my not-writing-phase. I've got a load of things to do at the moment, but I'll try to squeeze some time out to write more and upload! BELIEVE!

[b]Chapter 2:[/b] Lekat grunted at his arum. He prodded at the wooden ball, willing one of the spheres to move. It clicked sideward with a tick. He grinned, and then tapped at another of the polished orbs. It didn't budge. He shook the arum. The evasive gem clattered side. The veneered surface of the ornament was alight with condensation, and he dashed it away with his hand. He shook away the droplets of water, before wiping his nose and resuming the puzzle. The varnish on the spheres had a silky, plastic texture, like amber. Buruiu groaned over the stove, ladling at the rice. He turned up the temperature, and poured more water in. Steam erupted. "[i]Blood,"[/i] he swore. Lekat glanced up at the curse. Water sloshed out onto the table. Buruiu hastily lapped it up with a cloth, swearing as his hand burned. He didn't care. A raw hand would be nothing compared to a mother's rage. "Where is the cook?" He stood and tucked away the arum. "To the hells if I know," Buruiu squeezed the cloth over the sink, and swore again. "She's not helping us, so why does it matter?" Lekat went to the window, checking if the shuttle was returning. There was nothing beyond stars and the dead planet. "We might as well call for her, or it'll be too late." "I would say I do not care for cooking anymore, but I will probably die. Go find her." Buruiu dried the table. "Later." "Blood, Lekat, do not make me -" Lekat laughed. "Lekat -" Buruiu warned. "Lower the temperature, no more water, and let it simmer." The cook smiled at them from the doorway. Buruiu saw her, and bowed swiftly. "My appreciations, madam," he said. The cook left. Buruiu went back to the rice. "I swear, brother, when we are home, you better start training quickly," he advised, popping the lid onto the stove. Lekat chuckled again. "Should I ask why?" "Because," he said slowly. "I will beat you so badly that mother herself will interfere." -- It hung there, in the blackness of space, filling up the void where the stars did not. Like a jewel in the darkness, a haven for life and a point of succor. Large as they may be, it was only one of many, like a sphere splotch of pigment on a blank sheet of canvas. And they were toned to perfection; threaded colours, swirls of delicate blues and greens, balanced against a bland surrounding. Until they dried away their luster, and flaked away into a peeling scab. Like this one. It was a mosaic of filthy browns and black smudges. The sun exposed a rotted crescent of the planet, the other side hidden in shadow. It was entire in its corruption, its surface blistered. The threaded colours were sullied and the swirls were marred into a tainted smear. But unlike scabbed paint, scabbed planets were not so easily forgotten. At least to humans. Huraii folded away the human clothing, stowing them inside a plastic casket and then dropping it in a corner. She bustled off into the kitchen, returning with a glass and pot. Alaiya's cabin was a small compartment on the edge of the shuttle, directly attached to the kitchen and through that, the cockpit. Huraii slid open a drawer, taking out a handheld mirror, and looping it around a finger, grabbed another casket. "Apologies again for the lateness, mistress; the pilot has assured me that the [i]complete[/i] record of H'chovak's album will be present next time." She laid the casket on the cabins bed, placed the glass down onto the table, poised the mirror to best reflect Alaiya's disapproving face, and then pulled out a stringy wire mesh from one of her pockets, wrapping it around the rim of the glass. She plopped a bunch of herbs onto the net, and then poured heated water, leeching the herbs' flavour. "No matter," Alaiya studied her appearance in the mirror, and then reached for the tea. Huraii snatched the mesh away, tying it into a bag and enveloping the sagging ball in a tissue and pocketing it away. "My mentor was never as lenient," she added, raising the glass. "You are most gracious, mistress." She tapped the hologram panel inset beside the door, and from steel ventilators in the ceiling, freshly recycled air gushed outwards. She kept the mirror positioned the whole time. Alaiya turned back to the window, observing the planet below. "The surprise of religion-driven acts is beginning to wear off on me." "It's been committed all throughout history, mistress." Huraii disappeared into the kitchen again, placing the mirror back into the drawer on the way. She returned with a full pot, steam curling from the ceramic spout. "Yes, and once again we list down this disaster due to the cause of fanaticism. When will the men learn?" Huraii moved to the bed, bending down and pressing a lock of her hair and then the tip of a fingernail into the opening of the casket. Purple winked on the chrome lock. "Perhaps this time will be the last, mistress." "Kaidons will never change. Remember that. As many reasons as they can gabber out, the blade only symbols pain beneath the layers of prestige. If the hilt is still clipped to their belts, then people will die." She sipped. Huraii undressed, pulling off her hanfu and then the rest of her robe. "We cannot change instinct, mistress. There is only so much the matrons can do." She unveiled a servant's array; embroidered tussah, cotton trims, dyed sable. She fiddled with strings and tightened laces. "Instinct is a primal need, one that can be disciplined and controlled. The men kill for unnecessary reasons, and half the time they kill for no reason." "Only time will tell, mistress. As you've said, a species with a mind will flourish, not a blade." Huraii patted down her sides, and then fastened the jade buttons lining the side of her body and running down to her knees. "They must work in cooperation, not isolation. Mental skills cannot defend physical assault." Huraii scrutinised herself, moulding the cloth to her curves. Gods forbid oversized, loose wear. She combed at her braids, loosening the whole lot and letting it tumble down to her shoulders, and then pinched thin strands with strips of black silk. Outside, the hull of the [i]Preeminent[/i] blotted out the stars in a merciless wave of manufactured purple alloy. They entered one of the docking hangers, and powered down in a moan of cooling engines. An umbilical uncoiled from a portside hatch and connected to an airlock. To the shuttle's stern, containment fields hummed back on, and gravity was restored in the hanger. "Second Matron, we have docked within [i]Preeminent.[/i] The humans are now able to depart, as are you." Huraii finished, touching up her eyes and jaws. She looked at Alaiya for permission to leave. Alaiya nodded. "I want the humans filed out to the eatery immediately. I do not want their bumbling stupidity in here." She rose as well, going to the doorway. "They shall dine in an hour." -- Lekat jumped at the ship-wide broadcasting. Mother was coming. Buruiu smacked him across the head. "Put that away! Have you laid out the shells yet?" He left the arum on the table, and then hurried to the aluminum sink. The shells were swabbed in oxidising chemicals and rinsed, and he fished them out of the soapy water. He put them out on trolleys to await filling. Buruiu drew a knife and prepared to do battle with a haunch of meat. "Ladle the rice. Just spin it around, yes?" "I know how to do it." "Of course you do," he said, slicing at the pale, pink flesh. "We always knew you were the better chef." It wasn't a compliment. Lekat dabbed at his scalp. It was sweltering, with the acrid chemical tang of cleansing products, burnt rice and cooking meat. He whirled the rice around, freeing the globs of clotted grain. Buruiu was trying to look busy dicing the haunch, and he still had the rice to spoon. Mother wouldn't have much to complain about, he realised. This revelation would shock him for the rest of the day. "Lekat," "Mhm," Buruiu skimmed the knife along the chopping board, and then said, "Do not say I haven't warned you -" He grinned again. "If this is about before, you already have." "And," he continued calmly, "Never say I am not a generous soul -" "I have complete faith in that you will aspire to beat me most vigourously, brother." "- but your arum is still on the table." Lekat paused. "Blood," "Indeed." Lekat scrambled over to the arum. Ancients protect him, he was going to die. Buruiu looked nonchalant. He was frantic. "Buruiu! Where can I hide -?" The door slid open. "Mother!" --

James Regner didn't particularly like sangheili. It wasn't an animosity fueled by vengeance because of the war. Nor was it hatred due to fanaticism of human supremacy. He didn't think himself a racist. He wasn't against cultures. But he couldn't help it. An upbringing of aggression shown against and by aliens wasn't the best method of making him get along with the species that had been trying to purge his own race for the past thirty years. It's not all his fault. But besides the banal excuses and explanations, the simple, sensitive answer was that he was a damn racist. Not like a cultist, mind, bawling for sangheili blood on an altar. Not an extremist. But that's what he was telling himself. What he was doing now was probably bordering on the [i]extreme[/i] side of things. Strangely, at the moment, with an uncomfortable edge, he was feeling a bit grateful to them. It wasn't against protocol, but what he was ordered to do was putting his new swaying opinion on ramming ends. Cause trouble. See what you can do. Gauge their reactions. Everything must be recorded. [i]Cause trouble.[/i] He sighed. He couldn't do much at the moment. They had just been ferried up in a lavish little shuttle, heaters and lounges all, and now being taken through an umbilical into the cruiser's belly, entering into a classy hall of dark purple metal and orange embellishments. Keep an eye on Yuri Bowden and Karen Bowden. And cause trouble. He could do that. Not the latter, but the former, yes, he could do that. The old bugger was a tempered bastard, and an ugly one at that two. Two eyes and a mouth suffocated between rugged creases. Karen, his daughter-in-law, and one of the survivors from the Harvest Incident, wasn't too far behind in the aging process either. He wasn't sure why they were targets of suspicion, but he didn't question. Their footsteps echoed throughout the chamber. He bumped into someone. "Sorry," He steadied the lady. "It's okay, dear." Their leather soles clacked on the deck. The ship smelled like iron, soap, and stale air that had been recycling for months. There was dissipating water along the floor and walls. People had been scrubbing. It was a good, ship smell. Wouldn't compare it to cologne but. "Please seat yourselves. Food will be served in a moment." The sangheili waitress gestured at the stools. On the far end a glass oculus took up the entire wall, a square of dotted blackness showing through. He took his place on the far end, with a good view of the whole area. The Bowden couple sat in the middle. The hard seat was cold on his butt. He checked the studs on his blazer. It couldn't be too tight, or people might be able to discern a familiar lump strapped to his side. He shook the composite grip, making sure it was secured, and then poked the leather holster lower down his ribcage. It was a defensive option if things got really ugly... and a useful tool for causing some trouble. -- Lekat glanced ruefully at the broken arum. It was a tough mechanism, a cluster of concentric orbs and circles nestled in tight formation. How mother had managed to crumble the entire ornament with a single, precise jab of her finger was beyond him. It was showering into the waste chute before he could blink. Buruiu tipped the final mixture into the shell, under the cook's guidance. She nodded approvingly as he emptied the pan, and directed him to the door. It was a customary dish, and an accustomed meal to many Roliem. The basic principles were widespread, but how it was presented and treated, made the delicacy an anomalous rush of zesty goodness, a solitaire among many competitive compeers. It was a glutinous paste of rice, congee, sweet potato and maize, spiced and then while cooling, coated in spun yolk and pasted fats, resting snugly in a blossom of sliced meat, and then heated again. All this was displayed in the former shell-home of an abalone. The oceanic piquancy was a pleasurable enhancement; all in tribute to Roliem's familiarity with the coast. The cook placed the final shell onto the tray. "Matron," she announced. Alaiya waved Lekat and Buruiu forward. "Huraii is outside. Not a word." The pair lifted too shells each, and then filed out the entrance. The doors closed as they padded into the chamber. The cook switched on a holographic panel from the table. Ventilators sucked out the smoke and grease and fanned the kitchen until it was somewhat breathable. Alaiya sat down beside the table. The cook handed her a bowlful of the food, the viscous rice wobbling like jelly. She stabbed a spoon into the mix. "The children were attentive?" Alaiya asked, scooping at the maize. Karquier laughed. "Very attentive, matron. They have a knack for this. Perhaps one day they will be the teachers, hm?" "One day. Qaetha is stubborn, and rages when he sees the men cook." Karquier shut the hologram. "Husbands are hard to change. I find it no surprise with Qaetha. But the original one, is he still an aching?" Alaiya nearly bit the spoon off. "I do not know why I married him." "I daresay you weren't as smart as you are now." Alaiya puffed her mandibles. "Rising from servant to matron does tend to make you use your brain." "What does he do now?" "He drinks." Karquier shrugged. "War leaves a potent aftereffect, matron." "Let him sour in his drink." She took a mouthful of the rice. "Your husbands are still fine from the war. Mine is still in care, wondering if dying is preferable to getting a synthetic." Karquier shook her head. Lekat and Buruiu trundled in, nodding a positive report, and then left again with a fresh batch. Alaiya chewed thoughtfully. "I should go and help him decide." "Maybe that will work." She rummaged through the shelves, picking out plastic satchels. "What did he lose?" "His leg. The medicals have been keeping him out with narcotics for weeks. He still doesn't know if his leg is worth his life." Alaiya nodded. "I will definitely go and see him. Some men," she said, nibbling an elusive grain. "Need to review their ways." Karquier laughed again, opening the satchels. A sharp, dry smell of preserved tea leaves invaded the air. "Enough about him. How is -" she paused as the boys entered and left again. "How is governing going, hm?" "Once your ears manage to filter out the nonsense, you'll find out your eardrums have ruptured. It will take a while for Sangheilios to return to a single global entity. Kaidons are still bickering, but Vadam State, as foreseen, is emerging as the new head of power." Alaiya scratched her neck. "But, as you can also foresee, that has left thousands furious." "Ontom must have burst a vein," Karquier said. "And a few others too. The Wattinr Lineage?" "Hasn't said a word. The Sroam Family accepted the new ways," Alaiya admitted. "Their kaidons have already publicly sided with Vadam. And the Chavam, they were quick to join as well." She tossed her hair. "They finally spoke up. Their family had kept in the shadows since their Arbiter disgraced the rank." "A long while, yes." Karquier spaced out a number of glazed mugs, the thick ceramic glossy in the light. The sculpted clay was like sand licked into form. She evenly distributed herbs into each. "And what of us, matron? Who do the Roliem side with?" she said carefully. There it was. No one had posed that dilemma to her yet. The question had been asked to the First Matron countless times, as she was associated with statecraft activities, and how Roliem operated as a whole. Alaiya, the Second, dealt with the foreign; any problems or relations with an outside species. But she knew the predicament was coming to her, no matter what position she held. A spike lodged in the back of her head, tunneling further to the forefront with each passing cycle. Alaiya, after ascending to the matron status, had been shoveling away any signs of hesitation in her character a gaping flaw to see a matron indecisive. But then all that excess material came rolling back down, and her doubt sat squarely on her shoulders.

"Undecided," she murmured. "The First does not know. Nor do I. For joining Vadam means a partnership with humanity, and how Roliem will manage is a mystery." Karquier filled the kettles with water. "I suppose this dinner will help the choice, no?" Alaiya had considered if that was why Qaetha had forced her to this trip. Maybe his mind was still intact after all those hits. "It could." There was meat stuck in her teeth. She tongued it. "How do your husbands think?" Karquier asked, handing her a toothpick. "How do yours?" "He doesn't really know. He only fought them four times." Karquier counted the cups, and then produced another mug. "He didn't lose his leg to the humans," she added. "How then?" Karquier made a face. "He fell off a moving car. But if that gets out then he will suicide, whether you visit him or not." Alaiya smiled wryly, before confessing, "Qaetha doesn't like them. He doesn't trust them either. But then, he's trying to change. As for my original husband, he'll start to spit poison the next time he hears about humans. He's already looking green around the cheeks." She probed around her mandibles for hiding leftovers. "That's also a sign of too much alcohol, matron," "I know." The kettle bubbled. "Tea?" she asked. Alaiya nodded. Karquier lowered the kettle on the mugs. Steam erupted from the burnished rims; like a supernatural being tinkering with neat line of volcanoes. "I would say befriend the humans, matron. I offer you my advice with no bias. It will be for the good of the family and state." Alaiya toyed with her spoon. "It is a great risk. There will be many enemies made." "And if not, there will be just as many enemies. Ontom is old, and will stick to its old ways. Let them. Roliem is strong, and we will become stronger still. I heard the Mdama flocked to Vadam before we left." "Mdama is a group of backwater farmers who have felt nothing beyond silt for their entire lives. They have garnered a shred of reputation lately because of their agricultural skills, and there are still many that bring in a larger stock. Movam State, for one," Karquier set the mugs onto trays. "All in good time, mistress. I trust in the matrons." "We will concur," Alaiya replied. It wasn't a reassurance; they will be meeting soon. She scraped the bowl clean. The boys returned, the food served, and without a questioning gap of mindlessness they moved to help Karquier with the tea. Improvement, Alaiya noted. "How are they?" she asked. Lekat responded. "Peaceful. Some of them stalled and did not eat, but eventually their mouths began to work." "Madam Huraii seemed to have no troubles." Buruiu added. "Still hot, matron," Karquier said, passing Alaiya a mug. Buruiu broke off to collect Alaiya's bowl and spoon without a word. He doused them in the sink, the high-velocity water hosing away the grease, and then wiped it shiny and put it back in the shelves. "We'll bring out the tea in ten minutes. Watch until then, hm?" "Yes, madam," they nodded obediently. They were getting better. There wasn't a single stain on their robes, either. Qaetha was wrong. Her boys will become better cooks than warriors. -- [i]Three.[/i] The old man fumbled with his mug. The fashioned clay was ergonomic to sangheili hands, and unsuitable, despite the familiar-looking curves. [i]Two.[/i] Huraii's hand strayed to the tip of her cleaning cloth. [i]One.[/i] The human cursed. The tea spilled. Predictable. She moved to help, a human syllable already forming in her mandibles... "Get away from me!" She ignored him, fussing over him like a child, dabbing away the hot water on the table and his hands and handing him a fresh napkin. He grabbed her arm. "Do you not understand, don't come near me!" A woman beside him scolded him, tugging at his wrist. Huraii snatched her arm away, her expression neutral. Someone rose halfway on the end of the table. Huraii shot him a look, and the human sat back down. She righted the elder's mug and then backed away. Huraii wasn't moved by his tirade. She had been under the matron's service for half her life, and not much could exceed the mistress in terms of patience. She was taught by the matron, personally, each cycle made up of rigid forms and quick thinking. She was also punished, personally, but then punishment usually didn't consist of pain. But then there were a lot of things that were worse than pain. That human on the end of the table was staring at her. Huraii stared back. The human turned his stare to his mug. It was an expansive hall they dined in, with arching columns flowing along the sides of the walls and meeting in a ribbed conjoining on the roof, and lights dotted across the available space in the ceiling. Everything was a series of flexuous contours and moulded curves, painted in matted purple and inlaid with blue and streaks of orange; representing water and coral, a personal touch by the matron to pay homage to Roliem. The old man was fuming. Huraii was tempted to just take his cup away. On the far end of the hall the glass oculus gave view into space. It could've been a great vista, if there wasn't a dead planet right below them, so close you could still see burned out rivers, like veins on a bruise. The old man hurled his cup. It shattered on the deck, tea splashing outwards like melting fingers. Huraii was unimpressed. He stalked off, his cane clacking, the woman after him. Huraii knelt and brushed the remains into her pocket. "Nothing's wrong?" Huraii looked up from the mess, past a pair of shiny leather boots and black trousers, past an abnormally shaped torso, and then up to a human face. For the first time, a human was taller than her. She stood. Now she was taller again. It was that man from before. The one who kept staring at her. "Sorry?" "Nothing's wrong?" the man repeated. Huraii narrowed her eyes. "No? There's nothing wrong." The man seemed flustered for a moment. "Ah, just checking. All good, then," "Yes. All is good." The human stuck his thumbs up and returned to his seat, his face red. Other humans gave him odd glances. Humans, she thought. Strange, strange creatures. -- [i]Hell.[/i] He rushed it. James readjusted his holster again. He rushed it, big time. He didn't even plan what he was going to say, just ran up and blabbered. [i]Hell.[/i] He loosened his tie. He wasn't very good, apparently. Marks had come down. Improve his focus. Improve his skill. Improve his patience. If his pachyderm attitude hadn't won out in the end Christ knew where he'll be now. He guessed they were right. His attention wasn't all that great. The stew they served was drooling, and after two weeks of worker-class rations nutrient bars and protein meals, bits of artificial meat, bread, and fruit, sounding a lot grander than it actually was he had zoned out of the whole scene after the third forkful. He drummed his fingers on the table. He wasn't sure why they put him on this. If they knew he wasn't good, they why was he handling aliens? Hell, he needed to trim his nails, he realised, inspecting his hand. Maybe they thought causing trouble was easy. It is, if you're in a ghetto nightclub. He wasn't in a ghetto nightclub. He was in a luxury cruiser surrounded by aliens, months away from the closest colony, without backup, without contact, and without identification. Causing trouble in a situation like this would probably result in a mass gunfight. And him dying. [i]Hell.[/i] -- "A good dinner?" "One of the humans gave me a performance, but besides that, they were peaceful and ate well, mistress." Alaiya ran a critical eye over the assembly. They huddled next to the oculus, their faces a ruddy hue; raw, reflected sunlight from the nearby star. "They yammer over an event twenty years ago. As I said, these humans are so dramatic." "They certainly do hold grudges, mistress." Lekat and Buruiu trotted past, holding abalone shells and empty mugs. Karquier ushered them into the kitchen, before coming to join them. "They seem to be in a good mood." "Doubtful." "One of them broke a cup, madam," Huraii added. "And my prized set, too." Karquier warmed her hands around her cup. "Didn't bend any of their forks, either. But I was talking about the children." Alaiya eyed one of the women. Hair like that? Terrible. "Good. As I said, time for more than just swordsmanship," she replied distractedly. "Will that concept be implemented throughout the states?" Karquier asked. "It should. And if their matrons have a functioning mind, it will," Alaiya said. "Judging by half the Families throughout Yermo however, I don't know if I should be worried. The smaller states have matrons that can barely string together their own keeps and can't even hold their men in line. The First said they were leaving kaidons to statecraft. That's quite desperate." "Humans apparently let males do most of the governing and whatnot," Karquier said. "I do not care." Karquier glided closer. "How do you think of them, matron?" Alaiya glanced at her for a second. "The humans? There is not much to think about. They have shown nothing beyond placing food in their mouths, and even then they managed to break something." Karquier smiled, blowing on her tea. "Back to the subject - your boys, would you want me to teach them when we return?" Alaiya rubbed her rings. "I do. I'll set up lessons where the youth are taught in droves and any you find in particular, can be taught specially." "Of course, matron," Alaiya sighed. There wasn't much left to do. She nodded at Karquier. "Get Huraii to serve some extra tea." "Showing your hospitality, matron?" she asked. "Not exactly. I want some." Karquier chuckled. "Of course, matron," -- [Edited on 06.21.2012 11:02 PM PDT]

Huraii sidled up to the oculus. She balanced a tray per hand; eight cups in total, bobbing in imperfect unison. She offered them with a gratifying smile, slowly threading her way through the throng, until only she had two left. She glanced around for anymore patrons. [i]There.[/i] That woman from before, alone on the side, and this time without the irritating elder. She approached her with a small bow of her head, raising the proffered tea. The woman appeared uneasy, taking it with murmured thanks. Huraii smiled again. "We do hope you enjoy your visit," she said. The human's expression morphed into one of almost pleasant surprise. "Your English is incredibly good." Huraii latched on to the compliment. "Thank you. I had spent many cycles learning from translations. It does become tedious with the pronunciation." The woman chuckled softly. "We could learn so much from each other, were it not for the past." Huraii attempted optimism, carefully steering clear of that somber discussion. "We still can, of course. I find your cultures fascinating." She didn't really, but it didn't hurt to sound intrigued. She racked her brain for some trivial human knowledge. "Your cuisine is wonderfully exotic. Especially noodles." She laughed. "Your styles of cooking are delicious. And the tea," she sipped the drink. "Is amazing," "The husbands in the keep all prefer wines and spirits, and the youthful generations are losing their taste, only wanting things intoxicating, forgetting what calmness tea brings to the senses." "My husband too; he loved his liquor. He always assured me that only one glass would do, and when I turn around, half the casket is empty" she paused halfway in the reminiscence. She blinked, batting at her eyes, before turning away. "Excuse me," Huraii's next words died in her throat. A blade of guilt sheared into her heart. She moved closer to the human, averting her gaze. The woman blew her nose and coughed rapidly, dabbing at her tears. "Don't mind me, it was just..." Huraii smiled weakly. "I am sorry... for what has happened." She avoided the human's face, glancing down at the planet. A mix between neoteric forgiveness and a matured grudge warred for dominance inside the woman. The former lurched its way forward in a victorious heave, the stored anger submitted beneath cooled acceptance. She placed her hand on the sangheili's wrist, a move Huraii found startling. "It's okay. It was a long time ago. I've come to terms with it." A confession bubbled out of Huraii's mouth. It was an obvious fact, but one that was denied and ignored in the public and confronted and cried over in private. "We have lost many loved ones as well. Many homes are empty in the keeps." The mistress would probably exile her for such an unstable topic breached with aliens. The human nodded in understanding. "Hey!" The familiar bark pounded the temporary intimacy into pulp. "Karen! Get away from it! What are you doing!?" The elder barged into them, banging his stick on the deck. "Stay the hell away from her! Who do you think you are! Piss off!" "No, Yuri, its fine, its okay, really, -" she tugged him back gently. "She wasn't doing anything, it's okay -" Huraii retreated a little. "No! What is it doing, speaking to you?" He glared accusingly at both of them, only with Huraii his visage contorted into murderousness. He pointed his stick at Huraii's belly. "I see you go near Karen again, go near any of us, you watch -" "Dad, I'm fine, don't -" She pulled on his arm urgently. He pushed her away. "You can't forgive these devils Karen! They're all two-faced evils! Are you forgetting Evan! Your parents! Your boy! If it wasn't for them, Connor would be alive!" "They have nothing to do with Connor!" "They have everything to do with your boy! The damned cancers they gave you -" "Yuri, dad, come on she was only apologising, -" "Apologise?" He whirled onto Huraii. "You apologise? You killed my son. Murdered my family, burned my planet," he choked. "And now you apologise?" He spat at her feet. "What have you left us with?" "Yuri, it's -" "Tell me. What have you left us with? Tell me!" He grimaced, holding his chest. "You have nothing to say! And that's what you left us with! Nothing! I have no one left, no one -" "Yuri!" He never finished. The man sagged onto his cane; and then the waxed pole gave out from underneath his load, and he crashed heavily onto the deck. -- James fiddled with his cufflinks. The silver squares wouldn't fit properly. He reminded himself not to buy backwater junk; cufflinks were out of fashion anyway. Damn trinkets. Things weren't going too well. Apart from Yuri's outburst, which only kindled his hope and snuffed it out a second later, there was nothing which gave him the opportunity to cause trouble. What were his bosses thinking, telling him to make a racket on a civilian and sangheili ship? Damn morons. And he thought sangheili were supposed to be over-the-top lunatics who took serious affront to even the most mere of offenses. Why were they so mild? Do something! Why didn't anything ever go according to his plans? Damn [i]aliens.[/i] Damn and damn and [i]damn.[/i] He plastered his forehead against the window, his breath misting on the transparent surface. He doodled in the condensation, and then erased it with a snort. The cufflink banged loudly against the glass. He adjusted the square again. There was someone arguing over on the other side of the oculus. He disregarded it, still tampering with the shabby jewelry. There was a cry. He looked up from his sleeve. What was happening? He peered past a dozen heads, spotting movement. There was definitely something heated going on around there. His hope sparked. He dug through the crowd, squinting. A scream more screams. James pushed past the jostle of bodies, his excitement building, his hands trembling, straying near his holster, before finally emerging into - [i]Trouble.[/i] -- Huraii moved forward, her hands darting to her pockets for medicine. The man rasped on the floor, foaming at the mouth. More humans crowded closer. "What's happening?" Huraii snapped. "I don't know, I don't know -" The woman sobbed, hand over her mouth, "I think it's a heart attack -" "The food was poisoned!" "Alien scum!" Huraii ignored the jibes. She checked the elder's airways, yielding nothing, and then felt his calves and forearms for a pulse, before remembering the pumping arteries were located around the neck for a human. There was no throb below his jaw, and his skin paled as his body failed in circulation. Sangheili didn't call it a heart attack, but this was barely any different to what befell countless people across the keeps. She drew out a sponge. Attacks like these were countered by a dosage of shocking fluid that when percolated into the victim's system would jolt the heart back into functionality. She pried at his coat and shirt, her fingers failing with the zips and buttons, and then abandoning dexterity, she tore open the elusive cotton. Mottled flesh greeted her. "Where is the heart located?" she demanded. The woman fumbled in confusion, pointing at the upper left portion of the chest. Huraii pressed the sponge onto the skin, thumbing it hard so the juices would permeate. Cures were developed hundreds of years ago. Needles had better results, but then she didn't know the human anatomy, and employed something easier. "Hoy, get away!" Huraii was getting sick of hearing that. She continued administering to the man, saturating the body with the precious solution. A cold steel barrel rammed against her temple. -- Alaiya saw the fracas. Witnessed the imprudent actions build up into a contemptible tower of idiocy; from the base layer to the crowning capstone. And now, the director of the construct knelt on the deck with a gun next to her head. A clash with the humans; it was all completely avoidable. It wasn't just Huraii's imbecilic thinking that was aggravating. It was the very idea that a guest, a human, dare bring a weapon into her domain. By right, she had their lives rolling as a ball in her palms, except for one thing. The ball was spiked; they were [i]human.[/i] Alaiya boiled. A pot of fury simmering in her mind, its temperature kept in check by careful maintenance on her part and the impression that this event would pass over quickly. Now, the deceptive presence of placation had melted, and her rage was spilt, scalding her control of thought. She stormed to the oculus, Karquier hurriedly walking in front, leaving her cup on the table. The man saw her. "Back off!" He kept his gun on Huraii, who knelt beside the fallen elder, unattended. "Back the hell off!" "Jesus, put the gun away!" Karquier gave Alaiya a worried glance, but did nothing. She knew better than to intercept. "Last warning! Stay where you are!" Huraii's eyes flickered between the gun's nozzle and the approaching trio. "I swear I'll shoot her! By god, I'll shoot!" Alaiya could care less about his devotion to religion. Let him shoot. She marveled at the consequences. The human pivoted to face her, the barrel aimed squarely at her chest. And then chaos reigned. --

The sangheili wouldn't stop. He had a gun, and it wouldn't stop. James prodded the pistol at the waitress' head. Someone had told him to put the firearm away. Seeing how things are unfolding, he wanted to. But it was too late for that. His thoughts raced. [i]Jesus. It's still coming.[/i] "I swear I'll shoot it! By god, I'll shoot!" He sweated. That sangheili was [i]keen.[/i] Was the servant that important? He flicked the safety off. He never actually anticipated pulling the trigger. Hell, he wasn't even supposed to take out the weapon, but then things got hectic, and he had whipped it out of the holster without his brain's consent. [i]Hellhellhell.[/i] He nudged the alien on the ground with the barrel. "Tell her to stop," he whispered urgently. "[i]Do it![/i]" The waitress eyeballed him, and then went back to its mistress. [i]Christ,[/i] he wasn't even its top priority. "[i]Tell her![/i]" His voice was hoarse. He thought he had guts. He thought he would have the balls to shoot someone. But god damn, he didn't know he was such a [i]chicken.[/i] His finger twitched. Instinct clamped its jaws, and he swiveled to meet the rising threat. [i]Oh god what do I do -[/i] Something slammed into him. Physical activity took up a chunk of James' life. Whether it training, or sport, or simple exercise, his body had taken a hell of a good beating, wringing it into a knotted string of steel wire. But the boulder that tackled him, the dark blur that fractured two ribs and nearly ruptured a lung, was the most titanic, physical impact he had ever felt. Stars exploded in his vision. His stomach wrenched, and he gagged reflexively, spitting blood. They sprawled onto the deck together, the thing on top of him breathing heavily in his face. He shuddered, wheezing, and blacked out. ... ... ...And then intuition dragged him shrieking out of his momentary unconsciousness, driving a nail of cognition into his fist. He gasped and swung. Missed. [i]Gun.[/i] [i]I have a gun.[/i] He struggled, the thing on top of him staking him down with a robed elbow. Muted pain hammered in his head. He tried to bring up his right arm, tried to shoot the heady-smelling mass, tried to escape the lock Agony splintered his wrist. He gave a muffled scream, right hand convulsing. It slammed again against the deck, and the gun was ripped away, his fingers nearly dislodging in the process. He nearly fainted again, and something hit him across the ear. The world rung. The weight on top lifted for a moment, and he was flipped over, his body flattened against the floor. A hand grabbed his hair, yanking his head back until his throat felt like splitting. The floor met his forehead in a cold embrace once, twice. And then thrice, thankfully, finally, knocking him into oblivion. -- It was something in his eye that lulled him out of abeyance. James blinked irritably. He was on his knees, face against the decking, arms splayed out on his side. A dull throb sent lances up his wrist. He groaned, and his distorted reflection leered back at him in the purple metal. A red liquid dribbled around his eyes, leaking from... a cut on his forehead. He winced at the realisation, and blinked again. Oh, he's caused trouble. Lots of it. His bosses ought to give him a massive paycheck. If he survived. He struggled into a standing position. They were still in the dining chamber. Actually well, more specifically, he was in the dining chamber. Alone. There was no sign of the other guests. He frowned. The chamber seemed awfully suspicious now, and he was also missing his blazer. His empty holster stood out like a sore on his shirt. And there was blood in his eye again. [i]Oh boy, you've jumped into a pile of hell too deep to swim out of this time, eh?[/i] He peered at his wrist, undoing the cufflink for good and gently easing the sleeve back. It wasn't pretty. The skin was almost black, and there were small gashes where the flesh had split under the force. The bones were out of proportion, and were bruising up to the point where it was as thick as his forearm. He sighed, and limped his way to one of the doors. He frowned a second time and felt his abdomen; there was probably a rib broken as well. Something collared him. James gargled. He thrashed in the grip, attempting to sweep a foot back in a counter. It thudded against an ankle and did nothing. The thing dropped him onto the deck. He lay there, winded. -blam!-, his throat hurt. It was the waitress. Where the hell did she come from? It she stared down at him, and then casually placed a foot on his chest. He gasped painfully. "Hello." James nearly blanched right then and there, and laughed too, at the sheer strangeness of seeing the alien speaking so casually, were it not for the massive hoof-toe on his stomach. She cut straight to the subject. "You tried to kill my mistress." He tapped at her foot desperately. Her eyes narrowed, and then applied more pressure. James trembled. "You brought a weapon." She nudged his holster. "Why?" He gurgled. She took the note and lessened the strain, but didn't remove her foot completely. Did she not know how [i]heavy[/i] she is? "Alright," he started. "I'm sorry for what happened. I wasn't even planning to shoot anyone. I told you to tell your boss to -[i]oh god I'm sorry[/i] -" "You will talk about my mistress with respect, human." He loosened a breath as the foot slackened. "I told you to tell your mistress, to stop. C'mon! I only turned just to scare her, and when you tackled me I panicked, and then you were smashing me, what do you expect? I had to fight back, and I didn't even shoot in the end, and damn, can I also say you tackle like a beast, I think you -" "Silent yourself," It took a second for the realisation that it was simply a mistake in her grammar to dawn on him. The urge to smirk wasn't there. That annoyed him. "You have desecrated the terms placed upon you as you entered the ship. Bringing a weapon is punished by the cutting of all fingers and the removal of the jaws. Threatening a matron is execution and an act of war." [i]Oh hell...[/i] "Hey, I didn't know there were official rules talking about that stuff, there should be some board saying so, so how would I even know?" He was beginning to blather. Huraii shifted her weight. "Why did you bring a weapon on board?" she asked again. "Insecurity..." She sniffed. "Well, I was feeling a bit insecure, y'know? What'd you expect? You guys did kill my parents, and we have been at war for twenty-odd years, so I would say my decision was reasonable?" He coughed. "I'm still really sorry right, and I'm regretting it pretty badly, as you can see clearly, and you didn't have to pulverise my wrist -" "Silent. You talk too much." "Hey, I don't know about your culture and all, but I assure you this aint our declaration of war. I didn't know, and for us we have nothing like similar to this, and really, I hope your race doesn't take this as a provocation to fight us all over again, and really, I'm sorry, and -" [i]"Quiet."[/i] [Edited on 06.21.2012 11:03 PM PDT]

James squirmed. He massaged his side. The waitress moved away, and he gave an unrestrained gush of relief - and then gagged again as she switched feet. Huraii tapped her thigh, and then gave a nod. One of the doors opened with a throaty hum and a brief flash of orange. Two of the ship's security trundled in. She gazed down back at the human. He was reaching for her foot again, and snatched his hand away. He was almost pleading. "Human, know that you have violated our axioms and committed one of the most maximal crimes. Were this in Roliem Keep, the intruders would have been skinned and their beheaded corpses returned to the opposing family, issuing the declaration of war," She dug in her heel. "Then there is this exception, where the violator hails from a differing species and the onset of conflict calls upon greater contemplation from Sangheilios as a whole." She stepped off the human. The guards knelt, holding his arms and ankles. He shouted something. "Realise, human, were this any of the compliant races hostilities would have already commenced. Your kind has always been a meddler in others' affairs, and you will find your prying nature met by blood and blades on Sangheilios." James flailed frantically. The gut-rending fear, cold and merciless, mangled his insides and butchered his mind. A burning snake of terror coiled around his spine and squeezed his throat, drowning his brain of any emotion except the suffocating, heart-stopping fear. And throughout his torment, was the pounding question, [i]how does she know?[/i] One of the males grinned down at him. His head blotted out the ceiling light. "The Second Matron is gracious, and nothing beyond a small recompense is necessary. When you leave, consider yourself fortunate to return with your sanity, if not your dignity." She stared back down at him for one final time, and then walked away, each footstep a drumbeat closer to his cruciation. Huraii paused just before the doorway. "Enjoy yourselves." -- "The guards disabled every limb, mistress. I could hear the human cry two hallways away." Alaiya typed into three separate pads. Their tangled, mirrored code flickered on her face in a slanted jumble. "The pilot has just left to escort the humans back onto the planet and should return within an hour," Huraii continued. "The violator's screaming - I never knew a creature could have such a throat." "The creature needed a lesson," Alaiya stood and withdrew a bundle of papers. She untied the fibres and laid out the vellum. "What makes you think the human is more than simply an angry relative, mistress?" She tapped the vellum distractedly. "View his age, Huraii. He is no older than the war. While that does not entirely justify my reasoning, there are also other roots of suspicion. He was alone throughout the entire time, and I saw him as well, fidgeting and squirming. Other than that, his pathetic display of theatrics was falsified to the core; his actions were not impulse driven. More probably he was waiting for something to give him the chance to stir." She eyed Huraii pointedly. "My apologies mistress, it will not happen again." [i]The numbers weren't adding up.[/i] Alaiya sighed, flipping through the sheets. "Even if the human was acting on his own senses, then nothing will come of my accusation. But if the assumption is correct, then let those schemers understand Roliem is not to be challenged. Either way, it outcomes in our favour," "Perhaps he was a mercenary?" "Perhaps," Alaiya took a stylus from her pocket. She crossed out one of the lines in a satisfied stroke. The ink glistened. "Set coordinates for Sangheilios. Tell the crew to go into stasis." Huraii put the cup down. "Of course, mistress; shall I escort you to your pod?" "Not now. Roliem is in a mess, and the time is needed. Stay in your room." The stylus scribbled deftly. Huraii left with a bow, letting the door close with a soft click. "Qaetha ought to be missing me by now," she muttered. She broke the nib. [quote] There we go. Never knew posting up a chapter would be harder than writing it, lord. Hope you guys do enjoy![/quote]

Bit of a daunting read, I think this is my longest chapter out of them all yet. 20 pages of goodness that might not seem too revalent to the story... but there is more to it that meets the eye ;) Please post criticisms and etc!

Sorry I missed this! I thought it'd been a while since I saw this around. Great stuff, dude. Piecing the story together is still a little tricky at the moment. Moar inside information please!

Yeah, haha, when I first started this I thought up all these ideas to write and after a while I realised you don't exactly delve into the main plot until a while later. While this may be a big flaw, I honestly couldn't be bothered, this is a just-for-fun fan-fic anyway, (although that's not saying I'm not trying!) I wanted to sorta convey a feeling that Sangheili politics and civil problems are quite a bit of trouble at the moment. That's the reason for the massive convo's and all that. Hopefully when this goes into the later chapters you'll be more... immersed, I suppose. And also, hopefully that when this nears its ending this chapter will link up a little bit more as well! I always loved the feeling when something small and seemingly unimportant turns out to be a rather significant chunk of the novel!

Yeah, I can see where you're coming from. It's just that I have no patience, you see. Kidding aside, I can't wait to see where this story goes.

Great read. Have you posted in Halo Waypoint yet.